Good Boys Deserve Good Things
by BillionDollarBitch
Summary: STORY HAS BEEN CANCELLED.
1. Chapter 1

**Title: **Good Boys Deserve Good Things.

**Rating: **_M_ for Mature.

**Pairing: **Centon; top!Orton/bottom!Cena. (Also Punk/Cena, Barrett/Cena, Cena/Paige, Cena/Massaro).

**Warnings: **Gay sex, cursing, BDSM, suicidal thoughts.

**Cover or Video:** Yes, there is both a story cover as well as video trailer located on my FF Twitter: BllnDollarBitch

**Summary:** He's obsessed, enamored, he's downright addicted to this mysterious, attractive, godly man. He's so completely caught up that he can't help but to push and push for more from this man, no matter how much his friends object. But he never knows when enough is enough. And there lies all his problems.

**Disclaimer:** I sadly own no one in this story, however I've bought enough WWE merch to have paid at least one jobbers weekly paycheck...so there's that.

**A/N:** I'mmmm baaaaaaack! :) I'm so sorry it's been so long. But here I am, as promised, with the story I told you about. The 'world' this story is in can be a bit confusing, so listen closely. Everyone in this story, EXCEPT Randy, is in the WWE world as is now. However, Randy is not a WWE Superstar, never has been, and none of these people know him. Everyone else is a wrestlers, however. There's also no specified timeline for this story. If there's any questions, please feel free to ask. Also, as for the BDSM, as promised, I've tried to make it as light as possible without losing the essence I want it to have. If, for some reason, you begin to find the sexual acts to be too much for you, please feel free to quit the story. I don't want anyone reading anything they're uncomfortable with. As for real names, Stu: Barrett, Saraya: Paige, Phil: CM Punk. That being said, here it is! As always: here's the first chapter! ENJOY!

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"John? John?" A cute, little, dainty British voice calls out to me, after it enters my hotel room, as I lye face down in my hotel bed, "John, babe, you've got to get up. You've been just lying there not moving for the past two days, not even moving! You're starting to scare me!" The voice stammers, and I can hear the concern deep within it, "John, please at least talk to me! I know you're alive because I can see your body moving with the breaths you take," I smile at the way the voice words things, but only contemplate on trying to form words, "John, talk to me or I'll hurt you!" The voice orders, and I smile a bit, "Please do." I mumble, and the voice sighs, first with relief that I'm alive, then further with aggravation at my words.

"John, talk to me. Tell me what's wrong this time." The voice requests, and I slowly inch my left hand out from under my body so that the voice can see it. "I did it again." I mumble, and within seconds, the voice's fingers are trailing all over my hand, rubbing and soothing it through the heavy bandages. "What did you do?" I smile at the way the voice says 'what'. I always smile at the way the voice says 'what'. It's just so damn Britsh-y. "I punched the mirror." I reply, and the voice sighs again. I can't quite read what the sigh conveys this time, but it's a sigh nonetheless. "Why this time, John?" The voice asks, and I quickly pick up on the irritation. Or maybe it's the tiredness. The tiredness the voice has from constantly trying to take care of me. "I hadn't seen my own blood in awhile. The pain was real nice too." I sigh as contently as I can get, and the voice just sighs and smacks my hand, making me groan out in pleasure at the pain I felt.

"John. You need help." The voice whispers, now closer to my face, and I feel breath ghosting over my cheek for a moment, before the voice lightly places kisses up and down my jaw line. "Can you help?" I beg, reaching out with my fucked up hand to find the voice's hand, and the voice slides its hand into mine. "Because when I tried to help you the first time, that helped so much. I can't hurt you again, John. I can't let us hurt each other anymore." The voice is stern and set on what it just said. All I want is the voice to take care of me, though.

"Please, Saraya?" I beg, finally opening my eyes to look up at her face. "I can't, babe." She replies, shifting her body down to lay with mine.

Saraya-Jade and I dated shortly after she arrived on the main roster. One look at her and I knew we'd be close, that we'd be friends. But one day, one of my off days, she caught me at just the right-wrong time with just the right-wrong question. She asked what was wrong and I broke down about everything.

_Every_.

_Single_.

_Little_.

_Thing_.

She listened, and she actually understood. She understood! And that, more than anything, turned me on even more to her. She understood my need to hit, and to be hit. She understood that I needed to mask my pain. She understood that I was caving in on myself, drowning in myself. Our relationship was born there, but it didn't last long. I beat her, she beat me, and we both got off on it. We were worse than Ashley and I. We may have even been worse than Punk and I.

Ahh, Punk and Ashley. Those are two totally different stories...

Saraya and I decided it was best we not be together. But she made it a point and a promise to make sure I knew she'd always be there for me. And she has. Just like she is now.

"But you said I need help!" I try to protest, wishing she'd just give in and kiss me. Wishing she'd hit me, slap me, stab me, _anything_! "You do. Not from me, though. You need serious help, baby." She replies, and I sigh. "I'm not going back to a therapist." I mention, quickly thinking back to when my friends forced me to seek psychiatric help after my first suicide attempt. But the constant talking about things that didn't matter, the ever-increasing sedative prescriptions, and trying to talk to someone about something they couldn't possibly ever understand was truly horrid. It made me want to die even more so than before I went. Saraya chuckles a bit and shakes her head, "I know you won't." She sighs, and we're quiet for a while.

"I just need a fix, Ry. That's all." I mumble, and she groans in irritation and confusion, not knowing whether to give in or challenge that. "Maybe I should call up Ashley and we'll see what we can do for you." She mumbles, more so to herself, and my body tingles just at the thought of Ashley.

Ashley is what made me, _truly_ made me finally snap and cave in on myself for the first time. She was so perfect, and beautiful, and…nothing like my type. She came and all I wanted was her, and her in heer entirety. Absolutely nothing else. Talk about wish granted. She was into some crazy, freaky, kinky things, and she helped me figure myself out. She helped me learn why I hate myself the way I do. She helped me learn how to numb the pain. She helped me punish myself in a safe and controlled environment, and she was someone I trust. I pushed it, and her, to the edge though. I always do. I never know when enough is enough. I never know when to quit. She, however, did. And I drove her away. Not only that, but I _scared_ her away. I truly terrified her. I left her so badly broken that she barely wanted to even go home and see her daughter because of the bruises, let alone let the crowd see her.

Most people like to think she left because of her child, and that is sort of the reason, but I'm also the reason. She had to get away from me, and that was the best way possible. She, like Saraya, didn't give up on me though. She called me every single day whether it was to let me vent to her, or so I could just listen to her talk, move, or even just breathe. Anything to have her close to me. If I just closed my eyes and focused on her breathing through the phone, I could almost feel it again as if she were right there next to me again. We've recently been seeing each other in person more and more, and even snap and have our nights of pleasured pain together. But she's more just a crutch now than anything else. Just like all my friends are. Crutches, just barely keeping me up, just barely keeping me going.

"Hmm, you have a point," Saraya mumbles to herself, pulling me from my endless thoughts. During my collapse into my thoughts, she'd pulled out her phone and began texting who I assume is Ashley. Her phone vibrates and after she reads it, she again thinks out loud, "I don't think Punk will go for that." She mumbles to herself before texting whatever it is she has to say in response to whatever it is being said.

Punk. God, those were fun times. He's the exact opposite of Ashley. Where as he knew his limits, he just didn't care. He made it a point to push pasts those limits. Those times were one of the best times in my sad, little life. Punk truly hurt me, and I _loved_ it. Where as I'm sick as in I need help, Punk's just sick in the brain. He truly is. He knew what was best for me, but impulse and pure fascination drove him to not care when we were deep in the act of things. It was Ashley who pushed us to stop seeing each other like that, along with Saraya when she came into my life.

Also it was partly Stu Bennett, another of my crutches, even though he's only slightly into kink. He isn't as deep into this world that I live in, and that's what drove us apart. My constant need for more. We still remain friends, I guess, and Saraya and them keep him in on what's going on with me. It's just…it's not the same as with the rest.

"You're lucky. I'm going to attempt to get you your fix, and get you help all that the same time. Ash and I have a brilliant plan." Saraya giggles, evil hard on the brain, and I smile at the idea of getting my fix. But I cringe at the thought of getting help. I don't need help. Well, I do, but I don't want it. I just want the god-awfully amazing, mind-numbing pain.

"Saraya?" I call out a moment later, and she looks at me with a smile, "Yes, sweetheart?" She asks, and I smile back at her kindness. "Please?" I beg, truly needing a safe way of release. "When's the last time you slept?" She asks, and I sigh, knowing she's going to hate my answer, "I don't remember. All my daydreams and need have kept me awake." Her hand slowly drags across my face as she bites her lip in thought, staring at my red, itchy, irritated eyes with purple bags under them. "You need to sleep." She whispers, and I slowly shake my head, careful not to disturb the caressing hand, "I need to hurt." She sighs and gives a look of deep thinking.

"If I give you a super quick release, will you please go to bed?" She tries to bargain, and I decide to give in, knowing a quick release by her will be better than nothing. "Yes." I agree. "John, I don't know." She sighs again. At this point I've lost count of how many fucking times she's sighed since entering my room. She's a mess. I've made her into an absolute mess. "Please, just the slightest, tiniest, smallest little bit of release," I bargain and plead, "and I promise I'll immediately fall asleep! Just…just please stay with me." Her bottom lip juts out in sadness. She knows once I'm done being beaten and battered, I want nothing more than to be held close.

Without response and without warning, she quickly grabs my right nipple and squeezes it between her long fingernails, twisting it slightly, and I yell out in pain, shock, and _pleasure_. "You like that, my little whore?" I smile at her given name. "Yes, fuck." I groan out, and am rewarded with her biting at my left nipple, harsh and hard, and I let out a small yelp. She pulls away and dips down and kisses my abused lips, cracked and dented with my teeth marks, and I kiss back till she pulls away and lays down to wrap me in her arms.

"Please go to sleep, John." Her voice isn't quite a beg, and I feel that gives me enough wiggle room. "Please more. That wasn't hardly enough." I whine, not satisfied with what felt like beginners kink at _best_. "Nothing is ever enough for you, John." The irritation in her voice, pure irritation, is enough to make me shut my eyes to sleep. I want to shut out all the thoughts about how she's tired of taking care of me, and how ungrateful I can be.

Escaping my thoughts isn't easy, however, because as I drift to sleep, all that replays in my mind over and over is her words.

_Nothing is ever enough for you, John._

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**A/N:** Well there it is! So we've got some inside on his feelings, some of the characters and relationships. Hope you all found it interesting enough and stick around with me. The drama and excitement will definitely be picking up soon! Please leave reviews with your thoughts/guesses/etc! Hope you enjoyed! Thanks for reading :)


	2. Chapter 2

**A/N:** Hi, guys. Thank you so much for the reviews :). Small warning for this chapter. There's, like, 3 sentences towards the bottom that mention blood. No big deal, just a little cut, but for those with a problem with blood, just skip it. Only a few sentences; not missing nothing. Also, for those who don't guess beforehand, the mystery guy in this chapter is Orton. Here's the next chapter! Enjoy!

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I woke up this morning to the sound of giggling and female voices. What better a sight to wake up to than a ridiculously hot girl sitting on another ridiculously hot girl's lap, kissing and touching each other? We all three carpooled it to work, then after quickly hopped a red eye to Florida for whatever it is they have planned for me to get my fix.

"This outfit feels weird. Why are you making me wear it?" I complain as I try to adjust the weird black vest I'm wearing against my bare skin, "I feel like Jericho or something. What kind of place are you taking me to that I've gotta wear this stupid ass outfit?" I ask, pulling at the black, leather pants, picturing us pulling up to some ridiculous mosh pit or something. "John, stop complaining! If you want your release, you're going to shut up!" Ashley yells from where she sits next to me in the driver's seat, and I smile a bit at her yelling at me. She's never been the patient type, unlike Saraya. "But I'm too big for these." I repeat one of my many varied complaints I gave when they shoved me in these pants. "John, sweetie, we're almost there. It'll be okay." Saraya says soothingly from the backseat, and I nod and shut my mouth, content with my reprimand, though I continue struggling with the outfit.

As we drive, I look over at Ashley. She's put black and green streaks in her hair to match her outfit, which consists of leather pants with green diamonds, a black mesh top over a lime green bra, and some green and black heels. After examining her thoroughly, I look back at Saraya as she dances to the music with her eyes closed. She's wearing a black off-the-shoulder t-shirt with a red tank-top underneath, a black leather jacket with her Mother's name, Sweet Saraya, on the back in red letters, red short shorts with black mesh leggings underneath, and red pumps. "Something wrong, sweetie?" She asks and I notice that she's staring at me with concern. "No, just admiring." I reply, and she blushes and goes back to dancing.

"We're here!" Ashley says a few minutes later as we pull up to an abandoned-looking warehouse. "Uhm," I mumble as I look around, confused as to what we're doing here, "Are you going to kill me or something?" I ask jokingly, half-serious as I stare at this place. "No, John!" She replies, laughing. "Then what the hell are we doing here?" I ask, turning back to look at Saraya. "Partying! You'll see, John. No more questions. Get out." Saraya speaks up then climbs out of the car, Ashley right behind her. I stay in the car alone for a few seconds, half out of concern, and half because I can't move in these leather pants, but finally I get out.

"Come on." Ashley grabs my left hand, Saraya grabs my right, and they drag me up to the entrance of the abandoned building. We walk through the front door, walk around a corner, then arrive at another door with a big man, larger than me, in front of it, wearing a mask where you can only see his eyes. "Password?" He asks me directly, and I look to Ashley, not knowing what the password would be. "Spank." The girls both say at the same time and the man nods and opens the door he's standing in front of.

What hits me first is the loud music, techno. It's dimly lit past the door with the exception of a few strobe lights. There's lots of talking, and various screams of pleasure and pain coming from various areas. "Have a good time." The man says and the girls drag me past the door. Once inside, I see people of all shapes, sizes, ethnicities, and sexes that are dressed as we are. And there's people having sex and there's people being punished _everywhere_.

"What is this place?" I ask, fascinated with everything going on around me. "It's a BDSM dungeon." Ashley replies, a smile on her face as she watches my face light up as if I were on an 8-year-old boy on Christmas. "Let's go explore." Saraya says after grabbing my hand again. "You two go explore. I have to go find my friend. I'll find you guys later. Have fun!" Ashley yells then runs off.

Saraya starts to walk but I squeeze her hands tighter and pull her back a bit, "Wait!" I yell. "What's wrong, babe?" She asks. "What if someone notices us? What if someone knows who we are and leaks it?!" There's nothing but fear running through my body. How would I or the company be able to explain their face of the company, Mr-Can-Do-No-Wrong, their golden boy at a BDSM dungeon? "Relax, sweetheart, this is a private place. No one here wants their business out. No one talks about this place. We're safe." She assures me, and all I can do is trust her, exhaling and nodding, then I finally begin walking with her through the place.

As we walk, I see all types of interesting things and all types of interesting people. A lot of people are getting off on being hurt and it makes me feel a lot better about myself. Ashley, Saraya, and Punk all accept themselves, but I still feel self-conscious. I feel like I'm the only one who likes this type of thing. I feel like I'm wrong for it, or that it's still something that people shouldn't do, or something I shouldn't be apart of. I'm glad to know that I'm definitely not the only one that's into these things.

"Ooh, they're cute. Let's go over there." Saraya says, nodding over at two guys putting on a spanking show. "I was actually more interested in what's over there." I nod over at a stage across the room where there's a Domme and her sub performing some stuff. "Oh. Well I wanna go over there, so don't wander off too far, alright? And don't get into anything unless Ash or I are with you, okay?" Saraya warns, putting her finger in my face, and I sigh and roll my eyes. "Yeah, yeah." I mumble, moving her finger away. "John, promise me you won't get into anything." She begs, and I chew my lip for a moment before nodding, "Fine. Fine, I promise." I reluctantly agree. I hate that they don't trust me with experiencing stuff on my own. I get that I'm fairly new to all this, and I get that I don't know when shit's gone to far, and I get that I go too far with things, but I hate how they treat me like a nosey 5 year old in a museum full of antiques. "Alright, I won't be long." Saraya kisses my lips, and runs over to the two guys.

I walk around for a while, looking at everything going on, just taking in everything I see. I see things ranging from stuff I normally do, to things I've never done before, to things I've never even seen or heard of before. It's all so fascinating, all so amazing. Being around people just like me, being around things meaningfull to me is a good feeling. I soon start to realize I've strayed a bit too far from where Saraya is, but as I turn to head back, a woman approaches me. She's wearing a leather outfit that looks like it could be a swimsuit if it weren't for the circumstances.

"Hi, dollface." She says, and I smile at her, noting how attractive she is. "Hey." I reply, putting on my best smile. "Someone requested to meet with you." She replies and I scrunch my eye together in confusion. Who could want to meet me? Ugh, probably a fan or something. "Oh, okay. Where are they?" I ask. "Go down those stairs," She points, "and go in the third door on the left." She explains and I nod, thank her, and follow the directions. I'm sure Saraya would want me to go get her first before I go down there, or at the very least go find Ashley and take her down with me, but they're both busy and I think I can handle something as simple as meeting a random fan on my own.

The minute I get in the room, another attractive woman is in there. "You the one that wants to see me?" I ask, excited that it's her. "No. They'll be in here in a moment. But you're wearing far too many clothes for their liking. Why don't you strip down, place the blindfold over your eyes, and wait." She explains and I freeze. "W-What? You want me to…" I fade out, not even being able to repeat it. This is not what I expected to come downstairs to. "You must be new to these things, huh?" She asks with a small chuckle. "Kinda." I reply, not wanting to sound completely ignorant to the situation. "Well this is what typically happens at these parties, darling. What _doesn't_ happen is the prey being picked out. You must be special. Don't worry; I'm something like security. I won't let anyone hurt you. You say your safe word and I'll get you outta here, okay?" Her words make me feel better, but I'm still not completely sure. "C-Can you tell me when they get here?" I ask, still not even sure who it is to be expecting, but she just giggles a bit, "Sweetie, you're the prey. You don't make the rules. You follow them. You better hurry and get over there before they come. You don't want to be punished! Or…hmm…I guess you do." She shrugs and turns away from me to walk to the other end of the room, ending our conversation.

This is probably the exact situation I'm _not _supposed to be in alone. I know I should turn and leave, forget about this whole situation, but something about it all keeps me down here. She said I'm the prey. There's rules to follow. They're going to punish me. God, that's all I want. I want this situation. I'm just gonna have to risk it.

I sigh and walk over to the low table on the far right side of the room and nervously strip down, questioning me going through with this more and more with each article of clothing I take off. "On your knees. Lean over the bench. Put the mask on." The lady commands from the other side of the room and I sigh again, deeper this time, drop to my knees on the padded floor, and lean over the bench. Once I'm in position, feeling completely uncomfortable with my body all out and nude, I slip the blindfold mask over my eyes and drape my arms over the table and wait. Wait for…for whatever's going to happen to me, whoever's going to do these things to me.

The more I lay here in the dark, thinking to myself, the more I think about what's about to possibly happen to me. The thought of having foreign hands roam my body and punish me terrify me. It also brings me sheer anticipation, excitement, and makes me ridiculously anxious. Maybe the stranger won't care about limits and boundaries, won't care about my safety. Maybe this stranger will hurt me even worse than Punk did. My thoughts quickly flash back to the night Phil made me a broken mess in my hotel room, chained to my bed, but I'm quickly ripped out of my thoughts by fingers softly trailing across the back of my neck.

"You're so broken. My God." A honey-accented, smooth, deep, husky voice that makes me just about melt, whispers out to me, and my body shivers at the voice and under the owners touch. "W-W-What?" I stammer. I'm already at a loss for words at his voice, but even if I weren't, I wouldn't even know how to reply to that statement. How does he know I'm broken? How does he see it? "You're broken. Who broke you?" He asks, his fingers trailing from my neck, down my back, tingles going down my body. "I-I don't know. Everything did." I reply. "Such a shame. What shall I call you?" He asks, and I shiver as he reaches the small of my back. "Y-You don't know my name?" I ask, shocked as to how he doesn't know my name, yet requested to see me. "Should I?" He asks, and I nod a bit, "Well, probably." I reply. "Why is that? What's your name?" He asks. "John Cena. I'm a professional wrestler for the WWE." I answer, feeling oddly comfortable enough to release my identity to him, even though I don't have to. "Hmm, that means you're going to be a strong one for me, hm?" He asks, but I don't answer, accidentally losing myself in what his statement could mean, what pain he could cause me. For not answering him, I feel a strong force cracks at my backside and I scream out.

"Answer me!" The man yells and I shout out my answer, "YES!" I reply. "Good," He replies, kneading his hands against the skin of my ass, soothing the pain, "So, what's your safe word going to be? You do know what a safe word is, correct?" He asks, and I nod, "I know what it is. Mine is…" I trail off, not sure what to use. I've never used one with Saraya or any of them. Oh. That's what I can use, "Saraya." I answer. "Saraya? Whatever you'd like." He replies, running his fingers back up my body.

"W-What should I call you?" I ask. "You call me…Master." He replies, and I tense, "Master?" I repeat, and I'm surprised at the feeling of lips lightly against mine. "Good boy." He whispers against my lips, and suddenly I feel shackles being locked onto my wrists in a swift motion, and when I pull, I realize I'm chained to the floor or the bench.

"What are you doing?!" I ask, and suddenly there's a slap to my face. "Who are you talking to?!" He asks, and I bite my lip, realizing my mistake. "Master! Master," I quickly correct myself, "What are you doing to me, Master?" I ask, and there's a slow hum of approval. "Good boy," He whispers again and there's a kiss to my temple in reward, "I've chained you down. I don't want you to run from me." He explains, and I think for a moment before replying. I think about how I'm actually enjoying this. How I'm getting my fix from this. "I wouldn't run from you, Master." I reply, and suddenly there's breath hitting the front of my face. "Such a good boy." He groans out, then brushes his lips against mine again.

These _almost_ kisses are killing me. I want to feel his kiss. I want him to take my breath away.

"What do you need?" He asks, and I still feel his breath so I know he hasn't moved. "What do you mean, Master?" I ask, confused. "What do you want from me? What do you want me to do to you? What do you _crave_?" He asks, his lips ghosting across mine again as he says the word 'crave'. "I want…I want you to hurt me." I reply honestly. "Hurt you?" He asks, a bit shocked, "But you're already so broken." He says. "I want you to break me in half. I want you to hurt me. Please, Master?" I beg and he hums in disapproval. "Well…you have been such a good boy, I guess you deserve a reward." He mumbles and I can tell that he's still in front of me, but now standing.

I wish I didn't have this fucking blindfold on, then I wouldn't have to keep listening to figure out where he is. I wish I could see so I wouldn't be trying to create a face, in my head, to go with the voice. My imagination is doing him no justice. I simply can't think of a perfect enough face to fit this perfect voice.

As my thoughts take me away, suddenly there's a crack to my ass again and I scream out. "Did that please you, my good boy?" He asks. "Yes, Master, more please." I answer, the pain surging through my body. God, this is what I want. This is what I need. I brace myself for the next blow, but I don't receive it. Instead, I feel something soft and made out of leather, trail up my back. "What i—" I start to ask what's touching me, but suddenly it disappears and I feel a small, painful, burning, stinging sensation ring throughout my body. The object connects with my body again and again and again, the pain radiating as the movement is repeated. "Did I say you can speak?" He asks, and I bite my lip and shake my head. "Good boy." He replies and rubs his hands over all the red spots on my body, rubbing the pain away. Fuck, his hands are so soft to the touch, rubbing all over me and I can't help but to groan out.

"What I assume you were going to ask is what I'm hitting you with? Speak." I hesitate a bit, afraid to actually speak, "Yes, Master." He chuckles, "It's only a simple crop. However, does this pain make you happy?" He asks, and I nod, noting that he didn't tell me to speak. "Good." He replies, and the crop immediately cracks against my skin again, me screaming out in my morbid pleasure and the crop snaps against my body over and over. This wasn't what I was expecting when I was directed down here, when I was told to strip lay down. I think I was expecting something more painful, something more harsh, something more intense. But this is nothing compared to what I usually have done to me. This is beginners kink. This is simple. Anybody could handle it. But something about it makes me lose myself in the feeling. It's this place, it's this serenity, it's this goddamn perfect mystery man. All of it together has me on a high, has me on cloud 9. The feeling of the crop slapping against my skin repeatedly, him groaning louder and louder with each hit, me moaning out in pleasure is all that goes on for God knows how long, till suddenly there's a gasp and he stops.

"Seems I've made you bleed," He sighs, and I can feel it ooze from a spot on my ass, down my leg, "That wasn't my intention." He mumbles. "It's okay, Master. Make me bleed." I reply, and I hear a small noise of discomfort. "No. You've been through enough for your first time. You deserve reward for your beating."

His breath is almost joyous and before I can reply, his tongue is at my leg, trailing its way up to my ass, up the blood, to lick at the cut. "Mm, Johnny," He moans a bit, and my body shivers at the way he called me 'Johnny', "Yes, you deserve a reward for being such a good boy for your Master."

Suddenly I feel his tongue between my ass and I moan out. "I'm sure you've been with another man before, right Johnny?" He asks, and my breath hitches, daydreaming of him fucking me hard and raw. "Yes, Master." I answer. "Good."

A hard smack-by-hand lands on my right ass-cheek, a finger trailing down my crack right after till it lands over my hole and slips in dry, and I moan out in pleasure and pain.

Working so hard lately so that I can get some time off has really made me unbelievably busy. Busier than usual and I've already got an insane daily schedule. Thanks to such a schedule. I haven't had a chance to get taken back to Punk, or even Wade's bedroom. And what little sex I get from Saraya or Ashley isn't enough for me, especially since it doesn't solve _all_ my problems. Therefore anal sex has been out of the game for the past, 7 months? Besides, based on the last time Punk and I got together, I still think my ass is recovering.

Two of his fingers slowly slide in and out of me, burning me and making cry out all at the same time. He brushes against my spot and my knuckles turn white at how hard I'm gripping the bench. "Fuck, Master, yesss!" I moan out, loving the way screaming out 'master' sounds. It's not long before I can feel my end building inside of me, but before anything else can happen, he rips his finger away without warning, and I cry out.

"Thank you, Johnny, for all this. I've enjoyed myself. I hope you have too." He says and my eyes go wide under the mask. "Wait, you're leaving?!" I ask, confused as to why he's leaving and/or what I did wrong. "Yes." He replies, and I try to turn to face him, but I'm still chained to the ground. "Why? Master, please don't leave. Please, Master? Did _I_ do something wrong, Master?! I'm sorry!" I cry out, truly scared of him leaving. Things were going so well, it all felt so good, I was getting so close to my climax. He can't leave. Not now. Not yet. "Shh, shh. No, none of that," Suddenly his breath is in front of my face again, "You've been a good boy. You've been _my_ good boy." He whispers, caressing my face. "Then why are you leaving? I want you to hurt me some more, Master!" I try to explain, but he's not having it, "You want me to hurt you more? But you're already so broken." He whispers. "But you're helping me deal with it. Please, Master." I beg. I can't let him go.

"You're such a good boy. You don't deserve to be hurt. You deserve good things. Good boys deserve good things. Right?" He asks, cupping my face in his hands. "Yes, Master. But I'm not a good boy. I'm so damaged. Nobody wants me. I'm not a good boy." Tears slowly start falling onto the mask, making the darkness even worse. It feels like I'm floating in dark, murky water. I hate this. I don't want to talk about this. I don't want to hear about this. I don't want him to leave either. I just want him to keep hurting me. "No! No. You're such a good boy. Lots of people would want you." He explains, caressing my face as he holds it in his hands. "No they wouldn't. I'm broken and I'm tiring." The tears keep coming and suddenly soft thumbs come under the mask to wipe away my tears, "I requested you. I wanted you. You're my good boy, Johnny." He whispers, his thumbs still wiping each tear that falls.

"But you're leaving me." I say, hoping it'll make him stay. "Our time is up here. I'm sorry. I wish we had more time, but we spent too long talking. Now tell me you're a good boy." He commands. "I can't." I sigh. "Say it! Say you're a good boy." He commands again. "I-I'm a good boy." I mumble. "Yes. You're a good boy, Johnny. You need to remember that, okay?" He commands, and I nod, "Yes, Master. But…can I see you again?" I ask, going insane with the thought of never seeing him— Well…hearing his voice again. "Goodbye, Johnny." His lips are on mine in a kiss, a real kiss this time, and my lips knead against his as he holds me closely.

"Goodbye, Johnny." He repeats again, and I'm immediately at a loss for his touch. "Wait!" I yell out, trying to pull from the chains. "Wait! Master, wait!" I continue yelling, but I can hear his heavy boots across the room already, nearing the exit. "Master! _MASTER! PLEASE COME BACK! MASTER!"_ I'm going completely insane and my wrists are now bleeding from pulling them so much.

"Shh. He's gone now." I hear the woman's voice from earlier as I feel the shackles being undone. The moment they're off, I rip the mask off my face and look around. He's gone. He's actually gone. I drop to my knees again as the tears yet again fall down my face, wishing he was here to wipe them like he did. "He's gone, I'm sorry." She says, pity filling her voice. "Who was he?" I ask. "I'm sorry. We're not allowed to tell. It's a confidentiality thing." She mumbles, looking away from me. "How can I find him again?" I ask. "I can pass a message on to him, that's the best I can do." She replies. "Can you give him my number?" I ask, and she nods and pulls a pen and pad out of her pocket. "Write it down. I'll see if he'll take it." She explains, and I quickly take it and write down my name and number, along with a small message.

"Hey, don't feel bad. He's one of the world's most exclusive, private BDSM artists. Most people can barely even get a session with him. He _wanted_ you, though. That says so much, alright? You were special to him. I'm sure he'll call." She rubs my back, and I smile at her, "Thank you." Her words really have made me feel better. But they also confuse me. How could someone as, apparently important as him, want someone like me? My own friends barely want me. How could he…

"You can head out now. Hope to see you back sometime." She says with a smile, then gets up and crosses the room back over to her post, and I quickly pull my pants on and just hold the vest in my hands, not wanting to put it back on. Once ready, I thank her again, and head back upstairs.

That woman seemed nice, but I can't be too sure she's really gonna give him that message. What if she doesn't even see him the rest of the night? I need to find him. But…how? I begin walking around the main area yet again, trying to match a face to his voice. None of these faces match what I imagine his to look like, though. I listen closely to the voices, the moans, the groans as I walk through the crowd, trying to listen and see if I can hear his. At one point I just stop, and stand, and close my eyes, and simply listen. Hoping I can spot his voice in the crowd.

"John! There you are!" I hear a voice yell as I walk around in my search. "Hi." I mumble, not wanting to start up a conversation or be taken away from what I'm doing. "Where've you been?" Ashley asks. "Uhm…" I'm not really sure if I should tell her.

"OMG, John! What the hell happened to your back?!" Saraya comes up behind me and touches at one of the welts, getting me to jerk away, only to jerk near Ashley, who grabs me, turns me around, and checks my body as well. "Who did this to you?!" Ashley asks. "I don't know." I reply. "What do you mean?!" Saraya asks, rubbing her hands over the welts, trying to soothe them. "I was blindfolded. I never saw his face. I didn't get a name." I reply, and Saraya sighs in anger, "John, I told you not to do anything without me being there! Why didn't you listen?" She yells at me, but before I can even try to reply, Ashley grabs me by the face and makes me face her, "John, don't go off and do these type things without one of us there, alright?" I ignore her words and instead rub a thumb at the corner of her busted lip, "What happened to you?" I ask her. "Play time." She replies with a giggle.

"We need to get going, guys. John clearly abused us bringing him here?" Saraya says, and Ashley nods in agreement. "Come on, John." Ashley commands, each of them grabbing one of my hands, dragging me out of the club. I didn't even get a good chance to try and find him. I need to see him again. I need to.

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**A/N:** So John's met this mystery man and it seems he's fallen without even seeing his face yet. You know the saying. It's better to fall in love with your eyes closed. But is getting so obsessed so soon with an elusive, private guy such a smart idea? Will he even see him again? We shall find out! Please leave reviews with your thoughts/guesses/etc! Hope you enjoyed! Thanks for reading :)


	3. Chapter 3

**A/N:** Unlike before my hiatus when I posted on a weekly schedule, this time around I'll be posting based off reviews. So, I'm glad you guys felt the need John had, and your concern for his quick addiction is definitely valid ;). Also, yes, the BDSM won't get too much heavier than this - so if you can handle that, you're good :). Here's the next chapter! Enjoy!

* * *

I've been pacing around the locker room since I got to the arena. I've been pacing in my hotel rooms since leaving the dungeon. Shit, I've been pacing everywhere I go for the past week. All I want is for him to call or text me. I just want to at least hear his voice again. It was music to my ears. It literally made me melt. It's all I've been thinking about since being with him. Ashley and Saraya tried to get me to open up about what happened between us, but I wouldn't, and I've tried avoiding them since. I just don't want to hear about how I'm so 'irresponsible', and 'reckless', and 'crazy'. But being left alone to my thoughts isn't any better. It's only worsening my depression and self-hate with myself. I just don't understand why he won't contact me, what's so wrong with me? What did I do wrong? What's so bad about me that I'm only worth that one time? I just want—

"Hey, Cena. You sure you okay?" Mike Mizanin asks from where he sits changing back into his street clothes. "Yeah, Miz. I'm fine. Thanks." I reply, irritated with someone asking me about my pacing every 5 seconds. "What are you even doing that for?" Cody Runnels asks. "Waiting for a call." I simply answer, hating them constantly distracting me from my thoughts. "Hot chick?" Nick Nemeth asks. "No. Just leave me to my thoughts." I beg, then return to my pacing around the bench near my locker.

"Cena, we need you to head to the gorilla. Your match is next." A staff member comes in 5 minutes later and informs me. "Fuck. Alright, I'm coming." I reply, then throw my phone in my locker, pull my hat on, and walk out of the locker room to head to the ring.

* * *

I storm into the locker-room after the match, anger coursing through my veins. I couldn't keep my mind off Master during the entire match, so I botched almost every move. I was met with a screaming Vince the second I got backstage, and that's the last thing I need right now. After blowing Vince off, I skip the shower, grab all my shit, and storm to my car.

I don't understand! What did I do wrong? Was I not good enough for him? He said I was a good boy, so I had to be!

Thank God the arena's close to the hotel, because I'm too busy thinking about what's wrong with me to focus too much on the road. I storm to my hotel room and throw all my shit down and hop in a quick shower, hoping it'll calm me down.

It doesn't.

It just gives me more time to think about all the reasons why I should be even angrier.

I get out, dry off, and pull on some sweat pants, grab my phone and wallet out of my jeans pocket, then collapse on the bed. I sit the wallet on the nightstand, then begin checking my phone.

2 missed texts from Saraya, 1 missed text from Punk, a missed call and voicemail from Ashley, and a missed call from…from a blocked number.

Could that have been him?

Did he call?

And I missed it?

"FUCK!" I scream out. The anger surges through my body, and right before I can throw my phone clear across the room, it begins ringing.

**BLOCKED NUMBER.**

"...Hello?" I answer, practically holding my breath. "I was told to call." I hear that amazing voice I've been craving, his voice making me melt. "Y-Yes," I stutter, "Do you remember me?" I ask. "Of course I do. How could I forget you, Johnny?" My knees go weak at the mention of his pet name. "Great." I smile wide, though he can't see me.

"So what was I asked to call for?" He asks. "I-I…Because I want to see you again." I explain, hope in my voice. "Hmm. Well you missed my first call. You must not want to see me bad enough." He says, and I practically choke up trying to spit out an explanation so quickly. "I'm sorry! I'm so sorry! I couldn't answer my phone! It wasn't with me! I was wrestling on live TV! I'm so sorry." I beg his forgiveness, hoping this doesn't ruin my chances. I so desperately need to see him again, I'll do anything to gain his forgiveness. "Wrestling on live TV, eh?" He asks. "Yes." I reply, holding my breath for his response. "I know. I decided to watch and see you." He replies, and there's a hitch in my breath. "R-Really? Why?" I ask. "I had to see how my good boy was doing. You didn't seem so broken out there." He explains. "It's all an act." I sigh, and there's a pause in the conversation.

"How bad do you want to see me?" He suddenly asks. "Very." I answer. "What if I told you my next opening wasn't for a whole year?" He asks. "Sign me up for it." I blatantly reply with absolutely no shame. "You'd wait an entire year just to see me?" He asks, amusement in his voice. "Longer." I reply, and he lowly chuckles. "Why? Why is this so important to you?" He asks, and I bite my lip to silence myself, trying to figure out that answer. I haven't too much thought of that, I haven't thought about why I want this, why I so desperately need this. All I've thought about is why I can't have it. "I... You made me feel how no one's made me feel, and you barely did anything to me. You made me go into a part of my brain I avoid, and think about things. You... It was an incredible, and new, and amazing experience. And you interest me so much. Just everything about it... I want to experience it again. Please?" I beg, praying what I'm saying will get him to agree and not ruin my chances.

There's a long pause in our conversation, and I fear I've turned him completely off from me with my neediness and pathetic-ness.

"Are you free tomorrow?" He finally asks, and as thrilled as I am that he's still willing to see me, I bite my lip to again silence myself. I have a show tomorrow, fuck. "What time?" I ask, praying he gives a late time. "Nine." He replies. Fuck, I'm supposed to be in the main event at 9:45 in total different state from him. "Yeah, I'm free," Fuck it. I'll just have to work this out, "where should I meet you?" I ask. "I'll text you all the information. See you tomorrow." He replies, and I feel like I can hear the smile on his face. "Alright. Thank you, Master." I eagerly say, and I hear a low hum of approval, "Goodbye, Johnny." And at that he hangs up.

"Who were you on the phone with?" I hear a voice say as my hotel room door opens once hanging up my phone. "Nobody." I mumble, placing the phone on the night stand and climbing into bed. "It was obviously somebody. Who?" They ask, going over and snatching my phone, pissing me off already. "Punk, leave it alone!" I yell, trying to reach for it, but he blocks me and heads around me to the other side of the room as he continues to go through my phone. "Ooh, a blocked number. Some psycho fan get your number?" He asks. "No. Give me my phone!" I'm finally able to snatch it out of his hand, and place it in my shorts pocket as I collapse on the bed.

"Whatever. So," He slaps my thigh harshly, making me hiss out in pleasure and pain, "I hear you got taken on a little field trip last week." He mentions, sliding into bed next to me, and pulling me into his arms. "Oh... Saraya told you about it?" I ask, flinching, already in preparation for him screaming at me over us going. "No, Ashley. She decided to sacrifice herself to hear my tirade about it." He shrugs, and I can see the anger and disappointment on his face. "I'm sorry we didn't tell you..." I look up at him, and he cups my face, "Did you have fun?" He asks, studying me carefully. "Yes." I give a soft smile, deciding to admit it to him. "Then I guess that's all that matters," He says with a small sigh, then kisses me, "I just wish you guys would have told me. I should have gone and protected you. They said you let someone beat you?" He asks, running his hand along my back. "Yes," I mumble, "My Master." My voice is barely a whisper, but he hears, and Punk reddens at it. "Don't call him that! He's not your goddamned Master! If anything, _I_ am!" He yells. "Well what else am I supposed to call him?" I ask. "Some psycho who took advantage of you!" He yells. "He didn't though. I let him." I explain, but Punk's not going for that. "Because he fucking tricked you into it! You can't make those kind of decisions for yourself!" He yells, and I sigh heavily as I lower my head. I hate when they make me out to be some young, dumb, naive child. I'm a grown man who can make _my own_ decisions, and can accept the repercussion should they arise.

"I'm really sorry. Please stop yelling at me." I beg, leaning up and kissing his neck, hoping he'll calm down, not wanting to further into this conversation of put-downs. "I'm sorry for yelling at you." He sighs, snuggling me tighter, protectively squeezing me as if Master was trying to steal me from him this very second.

As we cuddle, my phone vibrates, and I pull it out to see a text message alert from an unknown number. After reading it, I realize it's from him, directions for tomorrow. He replied with his actual number. It's official.

A large smile comes to my face at the thought.

"What's that?" Punk asks, glancing down at my phone. "Nothing." I answer, locking it and shoving it back in my pocket, then we relax back into our silence.

"Punk…" I call out a few moments later, deciding this is something I have to do. "Yeah?" He asks. "I'm going to go see him again tomorrow..." I mumble. "What?! The hell you are!" He yells, looking down at me with anger in his eyes. "I am. I want to see him again." I say, wishing he'd understand. "Then I'm going with you! You need protection from this random psycho!" He yells out. "I want to go alone, Phillip." I explain, but that doesn't help. It just pissed him even more off.

"Fine, you know what," He says, climbing out of bed, "As long as you're seeing this guy. Don't talk to me!" He irrationally yells out, then begins walking to the door. "Punk!" I yell out, reaching out for him, wanting to solve this, but he refuses, "No, don't talk to me!" He yells, continuing for the door. "Phillip!" I call out, but my only response is a door slam.

I simply sigh, and curl up into myself.

It's okay. My Master will take care of all this hurt and pain tomorrow. I need not worry about it.

15 minutes into calming myself down, my cellphone rings and I quickly grab it, hoping it's my Master, but it's only Saraya. "Hello?" I answer. "Hey, babe. Punk called me. You okay?" She asks, her soft voice soothing the aches in my heart. "Yes." I sigh. "Need me to come over?" She asks, and I hear her shuffling around in her hotel room. "No, it's okay. I'm fine." I reply, not wanting her to have to come take care of me again. I hate hearing the tiredness in her voice that I've put there. It's always been easiest to hear in her voice more than the others. "Alright, well you call me if you change your mind okay?" She asks, and I smile at her being so kind to me, "Alright." I reply.

"So you're seeing him again tomorrow?" She asks. "I'm sorry." I mumble, wishing everyone would just let me do this and leave it at that. "Don't apologize. It's your decision. Do you want me to go with you? Have somebody there waiting for you when you're finished?" She asks, and I think about it for a moment. "Uhm, no. I'll be okay." I mumble. I want to do this on my own. I don't need someone holding my hand through this. "Okay, well you just tell me if you change your mind." She says, and I know she's hoping I will. But I won't. "Okay, will do." I simply reply. "Get some sleep now, babe. You'll need some for tomorrow. Goodnight, handsome." I can hear her smile through the phone. I can just picture it. God, her smile is gorgeous. "Goodnight, gorgeous." She's gorgeous.

We hang up the phone, and heeding her warning, I decide to go to sleep. I need all the rest I can possibly get for my big day tomorrow.

* * *

**A/N:** So not an extra whole lot going on this chapter, but still some drama! What do you guys think is gonna happen tomorrow with Master? What do you think about Punk's reaction? And John's relationship with Paige? (Sorry if any typos, I'm dead tired editing this). Please leave reviews with your thoughts/guesses/etc! Hope you enjoyed! Thanks for reading :)


	4. Chapter 4

**A/N:** Well, John's gonna go see his Master again! Hopefully it goes well, and John doesn't get too needy or Randy doesn't get too reckless. Also, there's some het sex at the end of this chapter, if you don't wanna read, feel free to skip it but I decided to put filler sex with John and his friends to keep the smut up until he can get some smutty goodness from his Master. Also, it was asked why Wade hasn't been mentioned yet. He's in the story, I promise, but as said, he's not into BDSM as much as Cena so he doesn't lean on him as much. He'll be coming up in some chapters soon, promise! Here's the next chapter! Enjoy!

* * *

"Vince, I'm about to head out." I say, peaking into his office area, nervous about if Vince really believes my lie or not, nervous of if Punk or Saraya are gonna catch me leaving, nervous for how this night is gonna go, just a nervous fucking wreck. "Alright. Give your GodMother the company's best wishes. We hope she gets well soon." Vince replies, and I put on as good of a smile as I can at this time. "Yeaaah. Will do." I mumble.

When time came to talking to Vince about me leaving early, the best I could come up with was my GodMother was hospitalized. I was gonna say my Father, but Vince has his number and I didn't want him calling Dad and catching me in a lie. If I would have said my Mom, chances are he would have tried Dad to ask about her too. So going with my GodMom on my Mom's side seemed suitable, since I knew the situation had to be something as drastic as a hospitalization to get me outta here early.

"See you tomorrow." Vince says. "Alright, see ya. Oh, and can you not let people know I left? I-I-I don't want to be bothered right now with what all's going on and stuff." I give an excuse, though really I just don't want Saraya or Punk to know I left early to go see my Master. I can just imagine what efforts they may go through to stop me. Slashing my tires, calling airport security on me, lying and saying there's a bomb on the plane to get the plane to land before my arrival, getting the cops to put out a warrant on me. Well...okay...so maybe they wouldn't go _that_ far, but knowing how irritatingly over-protective they are and how downright livid they were at my antics at the dungeon, I don't want to find out what they may do if they find out I'm leaving. "Of course, sure thing." Vince replies.

I give one last smile and wave, then quickly run out of his office and out of the building, needing to catch my flight. The drive to the airport, the airport fiasco, and the actual flight to Tampa was a blur. I was too excited to even focus on what was going on. The plane probably could have been crashing and I wouldn't have even noticed, too busy with my daydreams.

A cab ride later and I find myself handing the cabbie his money and watching him drive off before looking around at the dark, quiet, eerie area that I'm at. Much like the area of the first dungeon I went to in Miami. As I look around, I find an empty alley and quickly head over, needing to change from my street clothes to my dungeon clothes, and once dressed and ready, I head a block over to the building.

"Password?" Asks the big doorman, him being quite similar looking to the guy at the other club. "Pain." I answer, giving the word that Master said the password would be.

Where do they even find that out? Is there, like, a memo passed out? Are they on an email list? Like what the hell am I missing out on?

"Enjoy." The man simply says, opening the door. I walk in and immediately note that this place has the same set up as the last place, but obviously every place is unique. This one has purple satin walls. I run my hands along the material as I walk around, trying to remember where to go. Eventually I find a Dungeon Monitor and decide to just ask for where to go, not wanting to be late for Master, "Where are the private rooms?" I ask. "Over there," She points, "Up the stairs. Reserved is to the right and open is to the left. Enjoy." She explains. "Thank you." I smile, then quickly run off to the stairs.

I take the stairs two at a time. Keeping the instructions and directions from his text in mind, I turn to the right, walk straight to the third set of doors, then enter the one to my left. "This room is reserved, sir, I'm sorry." A lady immediately comes over and says. She's older and far less attractive than the lady from my first time, but she seems like she'd be a nice person and she's obviously strict. "I know. My Master told me to come to this room." I mumble, wondering how that sounds to someone else. 'My Master told me…' What do people think of you when they hear that? I guess I shouldn't worry too much, at least about what this lady thinks, she is in practically the same profession. "You Johnny?" She asks, giving me a once over. "Yes, ma'am." I answer, my face flushing at Master giving her that name. "Great. Your Master's been waiting. He gave strict instructions. You're to strip completely, mask yourself, and kneel over the bench. I'll send for your Master." She commands, and my eyes go wide, my heart jumping. "Wait, my Master is here already?" I ask in a panic. What if I passed him downstairs?! What if he was the guy I ran into trying to get through the crowd?! What if he was that guy I noticed eyeing me from the spanking station?! "Yes, didn't you see him earlier?" She chuckles, and I sigh. "Must have missed him." I mumble, quickly heading over to the bench and ending this conversation. Yeah, most people know what their Masters look like, lady, but you have no idea what's going on with me.

I quickly strip down, bend over the bench, yank the blindfold firmly over my eyes, then place my hands in the restraints, impatiently awaiting Master's arrival. I only have to wait a few seconds before I hear that voice take the air from my lungs and sends shivers down my spine. "He looks perfect. Thank you, Viola." He says to the woman. "No problem." She chokes back a giggle.

Fuck.

During my research on BDSM and dungeons, I read that Dungeon Monitor have to be some of the most professional people on Earth so that trust can be instilled in the people they protect. The fact that he can make her freaking giggle? I turn up how attractive he must be on my mental image of what I imagine him to look like. Now maybe I'm just over-thinking things, over-reacting, but damn a can guy hope.

I hear his footsteps pad across the floor, then a finger trail down my back, causing such sweet tingles, "Johnny…" He breathes. "Master." I whimper in pleasure already just at hearing that delicious voice. "Mm, have you been a good boy?" He asks, and I almost give myself whiplash from nodding so quickly. "Yes, Master! I promise!" I reply proudly. "Good," I suddenly feel his breath hitting my face, "I had a hard time fitting you into my schedule, Johnny." Master explains. "I'm sorry." I hang my head submissively. "You're worth it. You said you've been a good boy. Good boys deserve good things, correct?" He asks, and I look up with a smile, "Yes, Master." I answer.

"You wanted to see me again. What do you want me to do?" He asks, and I blissfully close my eyes behind the mask as I envision my answer, "I want you to hurt me again." I answer. "How?" Master asks. "I don't know. I don't care. However you want, however you please. Just please. Make me hurt. I want to feel the pain singe through my skin." I answer in a weak and desperate voice. "Mmm. Johnny, you know how I feel about you wanting that." Master whispers. "It'll make me feel so much better though." I explain. "Stay still and don't speak." He says, and I hear him begin shifting around.

"Is this your only selection?" I hear Master's voice, I assume at the other end of the room. I don't hear a reply but I assume he's speaking to the DM. There's a soft growl that resonates through my body, and then there's the sound of things being moved, I assume him picking out his selection of whatever.

Soon enough Master comes back over to me and I feel his hands trail over my backside, then he squeezes it accompanied by a soft groan. "You said you want the pain to singe through your skin?" Master asks. "Yes, Master. I like the burn." I explain. He gives a small amused yet approving chuckle, then suddenly there's sharp crack against my back. When the weapon is pulled away, the first thing I feel is the initial sting of the action, but the sting suddenly is overtaken with heat. It's not the heat you feel after you're hit though, it's a small, warm feeling that's intensifying to a slow burn. The burn gets hotter and hotter like it's burning my skin off, and I try and stay quiet until the pain is no longer bearable, but soon I give a small whimper of pain. Seconds after I whimper, I feel metal against my skin, then a shock run through my body, starting at where the burning pain is, then the shock radiates through my body and the area of skin starts to cool down and possibly go numb.

"Did that please you?" He asks, and I take a moment to assess everything that just happened.

It was a rollercoaster that I just went through. The initial shock of the rollercoaster starting, getting to the top, the scared feeling you get when all you want is to come down, the smooth decent, and the comforting feeling you get when the ride comes to a halt.

"Yes, Master. Again. Please, Master." I beg.

There's a pause and I fear that's all I'll recieve, but soon I feel the weapon crack against my skin, this time near my lower back. The sting appears, and then the heat slowly takes over its job. I try to push myself to take more of the heat than last time, but I soon find myself whimpering, earning me the feel of the cool metal and the shock taking over my body again.

God, what is this? What is he doing to me? It's like this therapeutic 'wash away' thing that's systematically drowning away all my sorrows. Or at least pushing them to the back of my mind for the time being.

As soon as the metal is away from my skin, I feel the crack against my body again, this time on my ass, and once we get to the shock process of that area, the crack is brought down against the back of my thigh. This process happens only another 6 times over various parts of my body, but me being stubborn and reckless or not, I'm glad he stopped when he did. After every shock, it became harder and harder to breathe, but knowing how I am, I wasn't going to ask him to stop.

Maybe that's what I want. Maybe that's what I need. More and more, my breathing coming slower and less, till there's nothing left. Till there's lightness of my body, and darkness or everything else. What a sweet way to go, at the hands of this man. _Those are sick thoughts, John. What the hell? Lock those away. Don't be so weak. Don't let them get to you. _I hear Saraya's constant reprimands in my head and quickly shake away the thoughts of my ending and her anger._  
_

I hear the sound of a liquid being applied to something, then suddenly there's another crack against my skin. The only difference between this time and the last time is the cracks don't stop. The weapon snaps against my skin again, and again, and again, and again until basically my entire back half is covered in stinging, heating spots. He can't _possibly_ shock each and every spot and at the correct time and area. I can't bare the shock process too many more times anyway. He's _got_ to have a plan for this. I pray he has a plan for this!

Soon enough I'm burning in large patches of my skin and I can't hold back the whimpers anymore, "M-Master, please!" I beg, and he lets the burn continue for only a moment more, before I hear the sound of something squirting. I hear his hands clasp together, and then I feel his hands rub some type of cream all over my body. He continues rubbing or pouring more onto my skin till I'm covered from my shoulders, down to the back of my knees, massaging my skin and the burn immediately ceases.

"Do you still burn anywhere?" He asks. "No, Master. Thank you." I answer with a soft voice, partly in relief at knowing that's taken care of, but mostly at that amazing rub-down I just received. "Of course," I feel a kiss to the back of my neck, "You did well. You were such a good boy." He whispers. "Thank you." I smile. "And what does that mean?" Master asks. "That good boys deserve good things." I answer, knowing that's the motto he's apparently trying to get me to live by or something. "Good boy." He whispers, kissing at the back of my ear.

I hear a noise I can't pinpoint as he walks around my body. The noise continues for a moment till I hear something sat down, and the next thing I feel is two lubed up fingers trailing down between my ass. They both slip inside at once and I moan out at the slight burn that comes with being invaded by both at once, but I wish he hadn't used lube. I want the full effect, the full burn. "This time. You've had enough burn for the day." He whispers, as if he could hear my thoughts, and I smile at the caring tendencies he has for me. He fingers deep in-and-out of me slowly, and I can tell he's not trying to stretch me for anything bigger, getting me to hold back a disappointed sigh. There's nothing more I want than to feel this mysterious pain god deep inside me, breaking my back. His fingers crook and he brushes against my spot, and I arch my body and moan out loudly, "God, yes. Right there, Master, please!" I groan out, and he brushes against the nerves again, before continuing his finger pumping.

My body begins shaking at the acts. Between the crack-burn-shock pain from earlier, and now this, I'm ready to explode. "M-Master, I n-need to cum! M-May I p-p-please cu— Oh fuck!" I yell out, his fingers hitting my spot again. "Cum for me, Johnny." He whispers in that deep, seductive voice, and upon his command, my cock twitches before releasing my cum, and I feel his fingers slowly pull from my body as the last stream is released.

"Good boy. Open your mouth." He says, and I pray he's going to plunge in his cock, but when I open my mouth, he instead pushes the two fingers inside my mouth. I'm grateful for what I can get, though, so I quickly close my mouth and begin sucking on his fingers. "Mm, I bet you can just work wonders with that graceful mouth of yours." I hear him groan. "I can! Can I show you, Master?" I ask, wanting a taste of him for myself. "You were not told to stop." I hear him growl in anger. "Sorry, Master." I mumble ashamedly, then quickly return to slurping on his fingers. He has me do that for a few more moments before pulling away.

I feel his hand caress against my face and his breath hitting my nose, "May I ask a question, Master?" I ask. "What?" He asks back. "What did you do to me tonight?" I ask, wanting to know so maybe Punk and I can try again. Punk will probably push me till my skin starts melting off; God would that be great. "It was a crop that had some warming oil all over it. I add something to it for it to burn hotter and longer. The shock was from a picana." He explains. "What's a picana?" I ask. "It's a shocker, essentially. It sends electric shocks through your body. It's used primarily for torture. It also does great at cooling down and numbing burns…when you're into that shit at least." He chuckles, and the sound of his laugh courses through my body and grabs at my bones. "Thank you, Master." I smile. "For telling you what I did?" He asks, an amused tone to his voice. "No, for doing what you did. _All_ of it." I explain. "Mm. You're welcome. Do you feel better?" He asks. "Yes, thank you." I reply. "You're welcome, Johnny. I want you to take a cold shower when you get home to further treat your back, alright?" He commands. "I'm too tired. I will tomo—" He cuts me off. "It was _not_ a suggestion, it was an order." He says, gripping my face. "Yes, Master, as soon as I get home." I quickly reply. "Good boy," He coos, then there's silence for a moment.

"You do know our time is up, right? We're just prolonging the inevitable." He whispers, and I bite my lip for a moment, choosing my next words carefully. "I don't want you to leave me again." I sigh. "I assume that means you want to see me again?" He asks. No, that means I don't want you to leave me again. But seeing you again is also something I want too. "God, yes. Please, Master" I beg, and he chuckles. "Fine, but we're going to meet in a different setting next time." He says. "Where, Master?" I ask. "You'll find out when I text you with the details. I'll have to find time for you first. Next time needs to be somewhere else, though. I can't have a fucking time limit interrupting what I want to do to you next time." His voice gets even deeper as he growls the last line, and my entire body goes into a state of shock and early-set euphoria. What he wants to do to me next time? God, what could that be? Especially since a time limit would be interrupting it. He's already used a United States government mandated terrorist torturing weapon. My body shivers at what he could do to me next. "Yes, sir, Master! I can't wait!" I can't don't even try to hide my smile. "Mm, neither can I my good boy." Master says against my lips, sending chills through my body. His lips press into mine once he's done speaking, and I press back against his, us just simply kissing for a moment before his tongue slips past my lips and his hands reach up to grab my face.

"Goodbye, Johnny." He whispers, and I whimper in abandonment as I hear him exit the room, tears slowly slipping from my eyes as I hear the door close. God, I hope the next time we meet, he won't just leave me alone like this. How do you tell some stranger that you've never even seen before, that you let tie you up and beat you, that you need to be held and comforted afterwards because you can't take the feeling of abandonment and not being cared about?

As I think about things, I feel my restraints coming loose. "You okay?" The woman asks. "I guess, thanks." I sigh, yanking off the mask. "That typical behavior from your Master? To just leave you like that?" She asks, giving a disapproving glare. Ha, I'm disapproving right along with ya, lady. "Yes. I don't necessarily belong to him, that's why. I met him only once before at another Dungeon. I guess you can say we clicked a bit. So we arranged this play date...and our next apparently." My face shows a range of emotions as I speak, honestly not sure how or what to think about all of this. "You trying to get collared?" She asks, and I give a pathetic chuckle, "No, I doubt he's a collaring type of guy. More of a rent-for-the-hour type of guy." I sigh. "I know. He's pretty well-known. Well, his expertise is, not him I guess I should say. I was just wondering since he seemed so fond of you. Never seen that with him and any of his other clients." She smiles and says. "At least that makes me feel a little better about the whole abandonment thing." I chuckle, running a hand over my head. "You gonna be okay? You seem a bit shaken up." She rubs my back, and I shrug a bit, "Used to a little comforting afterwards, but I'll be fine. Thanks." I say, mustering up my strength to stand. "Enjoy the rest of your evening. Hope you two have fun next time." She chuckles. "Thank you. Enjoy your night as well." I say, and she nods and leaves me to pulling on my clothes.

Once they're on, I grab my bag, give her another goodbye, and leave the club. On my way out the door, I give a glance around the place, wondering if he's standing out there somewhere watching me leave. It's not fair. It's just not fair. He gets to see me, _all_ of me, feel me, use me, know things about me. And what do I get? Well, mind-numbing bliss and pleasure, but... Still! It's just not fair. But who knows? He allowed me another experience with him. He's letting me see him yet again. He's even taking us somewhere more free. Maybe things are looking up, getting better. Maybe he likes me as much as I like him! I know I'm getting way ahead of myself, but I can't keep my excitement down. He's just so amazing and I... I should stop thinking about this, getting too into things. That's how I always ruin things for myself.

I head back to the alley, change back into my normal clothes, walk a few blocks up the street, and hail a cab to my house, content with drifting in and out of my thoughts of what just happened to me throughout the cab ride.

Dropping my bag off at the kitchen, I quickly head to my bedroom, ready to drift to dream land, hoping he's a prominent feature tonight like the last time I saw him.

"Did you have fun?" I hear a voice as I walk into my bedroom, and look up to see Saraya sitting Indian style in the middle of my bed. "Yes," I flush, "Why aren't you at your hotel or something?" I ask, heading over to the bed. "I'll catch a flight with you in the morning. I needed to come here and make sure you were okay. You obviously left without saying goodbye, and I didn't trust you to call when you got home." Smooth move because I surely didn't plan on calling till tomorrow before I got on the plane. Not because I didn't want to, I just didn't think about the ease it would put them knowing Master hadn't killed me or anything. "I didn't want you guys to try and stop me from going." I explain, standing in front of the bed as she leans up on her knees and cups my face. "I wouldn't have tried to stop you. Maybe Punk, yes. _I_ just wanted to know that you were leaving though, and to tell you to call when you got there and got home so I knew you were okay. I can't keep you from doing what you want, neither can Punk as much as he thinks he can." Saraya explains, running a hand down my face. "Thank you for being so understanding at least." I whisper, happy with this little bit of leash-loosening I'm getting from her. "Anything for you." She says, then gives a soft kiss my lips.

"I need to shower, can you get my back?" I ask, and she gives a small sigh, "Because of him?" She asks. "Yes, Mast…uhm, he told me to." I answer. "You can call him that around me. If you're comfortable with it, then I'm okay with it." She smiles. God, she's amazing. "Thank you." I smile. "So do you do everything he tells you?" She asks, and I just quickly bury my head in her neck, not answering. "Come on, let's go get you in the shower." She says, climbing off the bed, grabbing my hand and dragging me into the bathroom.

We quickly rid of both our clothes, then climb in, and I immediately change the temperature of the shower from where she has it set from hot to cold. "Why cold?" She asks, and I just give her a glance with a look of self pity on my face, "He said so. Mm. Figures. Okay, turn around," She says, leaning over to grab the body wash and I do as told, "Oh my God, John! What the hell did he do to you?!" She screams out. "What does it look like?" I ask, curious, wondering how much body make-up I'll need on my skin tomorrow for the show. "There are red patches of irritated skin all over you! What the fuck did he do to you?!" She repeats herself, and I smile to myself for a moment, happy he left his marks on me. The last time we met, he was so scared to scar my skin and draw blood. This time he left as many of his markings as possible. And next time…my body shivers at the thought. "Various things. There was a process." I explain. "John, you have 3 seconds." She warns. "First he'd hit me with a crop that was covered in warming oil and something else. My skin would heat up till I couldn't take it. Then he'd shock me to cool me down for the first few times, but cream was what cooled down most of them." I explain, and I can hear the anger in her voice when she speaks again. "Shocked you? With what?" She says, speaking slowly through clenched teeth. "A picana. Torture device that shocks and electrocutes people." I explain. "I absolutely dare you to tell Punk that. He's going to hunt that man down." She hisses, lathering my back in body wash.

"Why is it such a problem? It felt good. It felt amazing actually! You should try it." I explain. "No one is denying the pleasure you may get from it. I'm upset that you let a stranger bound you up, blindfold you, and torture you, John! That's for someone you're comfortable with to do to you, someone you trust!" She explains. "I do trust him." I whisper, knowing it's only gonna get me in more trouble with her. But it's the goddamned truth. "I don't want to talk about this anymore, John. If you want me to keep supporting you on this, I suggest you stop telling tales of your night. You enjoyed yourself, got a fix, got home safely. That's all that matters. Just no more talking. You're distracting me from this anyway." She says, digging her hands deeper into my body as she continues massaging the soap on me. She soaps me completely up, but doesn't stop. I can tell this is keeping her concentrated and off her thoughts, so I don't mind. It feels good anyway. Not as good as Master's massage, though.

"This fucking water is so fucking cold. It stings." She growls. "I know. It hurts. Doesn't it feel good?" I smile softly. "No. It doesn't. Not everyone thrives on pain like you do. _I_ like a little _normality_ in my life." She hisses, and I sigh and hang my head. She sighs as well and I feel her hands slip around my waist as she lays her head against my back, and sensing that she doesn't want to fight anymore, I turn and pull her into my arms, leaning her against the cold wall of the shower, making her jump and arch her body into my touch as she smirks up at me. "I'm sorry for upsetting you." I whisper, running my nose against hers. "I want what's best for you." She says. "I know." I sigh. "I'm happy when you're happy, though. He makes you happy. Just don't tell me about your escapades anymore, okay?" She says. "Deal. Will you stop being mad at me?" I ask. "How can I stay mad at such an adorably pitiful face?" She asks back, leaning up to kiss me, and I wrap my arms tighter around her body as she pulls my head closer to hers, her tongue slipping past my lips.

When we finally pull away, she looks up at me with lusty eyes. "You're going to slip up?" I ask, sort of shocked. I know she's been very adamant on not sleeping with me and not getting into hardcore acts with me, and thought she's given in a few times since making this decision, lately she's been doing very well at abstaining from me. "Everyone deserves a treat every so often right?" She asks.

_Good boys deserve good things._

"And you consider me a treat?" I sigh, pulling away. I'm not treat. I'm a sad, tired, pathetic, frustrating, miserable excuse for a burden unwantingly thrown on her shoulders. "Yes, because you are." She says, pulling me back to her. "No, I'm not." I shake my head. "John, yes you are. You're such a treat, such a catch." She tries to convince me, but I just sigh and slump into myself.

_"Say it! Say you're a good boy." He commands again. "I-I'm a good boy." I mumble. "Yes. You're a good boy, Johnny. You need to remember that, okay?" He says and I nod, "Yes, Master."_ His words come back to me.

"I'm a good boy." I whisper to myself, and she looks at me funnily, "What'd you say?" She asks, not having actually heard what I said. "Nothing. I want you tonight. I want to be your treat." I say, pulling her tight against my body. "Mm, good." She smiles, leaning up to kiss me again.

I slide my tongue in her mouth as I slide my hands down to grab her pert ass. Once pulling away, I kiss down to her neck, then down to her chest. I make sure to give special attention to each nipple, then kiss down her stomach as I lower myself to my knees. I grab her legs to lift her to give some attention to her lower half, but she quickly grabs my head to make me look at her. "John, I'm fucking impatient. Just fuck me." She growls, and I chuckle and stand back up, grabbing her and lifting her up, and she wraps her legs around my body.

"Aren't you glad you don't have to 'prepare' me and all that other shit you boys have to do with each other." She smirks, jokingly. "I'm going to fuck the sarcasticness out of you, you asshole." I chuckle. "You'd know about assholes." She winks, and deciding to shut her up, I lean forward and practically impale her, garnering her to scream out and throw her head back, slamming it against the tiled shower wall. She yells out in pain as she reaches up and grabs at the back of her head, "You fucking asshole!" She yells out. "I'd know about assholes, right?" I wink, then begin stroking inside her.

She wraps her arms tightly around my neck and begins moaning out, and I pull her from the wall, then slam her back against the coldness. "Holy fuck! Ugh, this is starting to be more of a trick than a treat!" She complains. "If you're going to keep running your mouth, make it more 'Oh, John, you're the best. This feels great. You're the best I ever had!'" I squeal in a girl's voice, and she smacks my chest as she laughs, "How about I hate you and you suck?" She asks. "No, no, I think you're mistaken. Here, I'll help you out." I say, then re-angle my strokes and hit her spot. "Oh fuck, John, yes! Right there, baby!" She screams out. "That's about right." I smirk, as I continue at that angle. She buries her face in my neck and attempts bouncing and grinding on my length, causing me such pleasure, "Fuck, baby, you feel so good." I whisper in her ear. "You know this feels so fucking great." She moans out.

Not to say this isn't amazing, or that I don't love having sex with Saraya or anything, but I still kind of have thoughts of Master on my mind as well. This sex mixed with thoughts of him on my mind and how he made me cum earlier, and I'm extremely close to my end.

"Come on, baby." I whisper, reaching down to massage her clit, and she screams out and her body shakes in pleasure. "Oh, keep doing that! Fuck!" She begs, and I keep up my intense strokes as I continue the clit play. Quickly she comes to her end as an orgasm racks through her body. She claws my back as she screams out and clamps down around my length. I grab her tightly and give a few more strokes till I'm at my end as well, quickly pulling out and cumming down the drain.

She collapses against my body and I hold her tightly, "Come on, let's get you dried off and in bed." I whisper, then pick her up bridal-style. I shut off the shower, grab a towel off the rack, and go into the bedroom. I sit her on the bed and make quick work of drying her off. Once she is, I pull a t-shirt out of my drawer and get it on her body. "Thank you." She lazily smiles, and I can tell she's about two seconds from passing out sleep. "You're welcome." I kiss her lips, then dry myself off, pull on some shorts, and drag her to the head of the bed to lay down. I wrap her tightly in my arms and kiss her lips again.

"I'm glad you're okay. Thank you for tonight." She whispers before passing out. "You're welcome." I reply to her sleeping form, then fall asleep myself.

* * *

**A/N:** Okay first off, the picana isn't a US torture weapon, that was just John being over-dramatic as usual, so don't think Randy's using psycho tools on him or anything. So John got outta work without getting caught and had a pretty nice time with Randy. And there's gonna be another get together! And ever-so-caring Paige was there to check on him when he got home, what a sweetie. But she wasn't too pleased with what Randy did. _But_ she's still supporting John on his antics. Hmmm. Please leave reviews with your thoughts/guesses/etc! Hope you enjoyed! Thanks for reading :)


	5. Chapter 5

**A/N:** This chapter is short and slightly a filler, btw. Here's the next chapter! Enjoy!

* * *

"Are you okay?" I ask Saraya as we sit on the plane to the next show, and she gives a small sigh, not lifting her head from where she's laid it against the window since we took our seats, "Mhm." She simply replies, yet to actually speak since we boarded as well. "You sure?" I ask, wishing she'd tell me what's wrong. She's seemed so...distant since last night. "Mhm." She yet again replies, and I sigh and leave it at that. If she wants to stay deep in her own mind and left alone, that's fine, I can do that too. I lay my head back and drift back to yesterday and my time with Master.

God, it was amazing. He was amazing, we were amazing, everything was amazing. How can one person just be so damn...so damn...amazing! I don't even know how else to describe him. Well, there's always words like 'perfection', 'godly', 'devilishly angelic', and other similar words. But...

I wonder what's going to happen at the place we go to next time. I want him to fuck me. I want him to make me permanently forget every bad thing in the world. I want him to give me all he's got. Though if I'm to be realistic, I'd settle for at least ditching this mask. Seeing his face, his body, seeing the look on his face as he breaks me. God, that's everything I want and more. I can just imagine the spark that'll run between us the moment our eyes meet for the first time. It'll be like—

"You thinking about _him_?" I hear Saraya's voice, catching me off guard. "Yeah..." I mumble, not sure if my answer is a good thing or bad thing, or why she's even asking for that matter. "Mm. Figures." She says in sort of a scoff, and I scrunch my eyebrows in confusion, "Why do you say that?" I ask. "The smile on your face and the way you were looking, that's how I knew." She explains, and I try to hide the flushing in my face at how easily I react to even simple thoughts of him, "Yeah, but why are you saying it like it's a bad thing? I thought you were happy he makes me happy?" I'm confused. So confused. Why is she suddenly acting so pissy? "Who said it's a bad thing? Cena's happy so everything's right in the world. You're happy, so everyone else has to have sunshine shining out of their ass." She replies with a smile on her face, then shoves her earbuds into her ear and goes back to staring out the window.

I... I don't know what to say or how to react to that. What the fuck is her deal, though?

* * *

The second we got off the flight, Saraya abandoned me, rushing off for her luggage and getting her own cab to work. I simply gathered my things and hopped a cab to a radio interview I was scheduled for, spending most of the day doing PR work, thankful for not having to see any of my friends all day.

As I put my keycard in the slot, I can already hear the people in my hotel room. God, they're here to bother me already. I open the door and close it quietly because I'm met with yelling coming from the back of the suite.

"He fucking electrocuted him?! What the fuck is wrong with him?!" I hear Punk's voice. "That's what Saraya told me." I then hear Ashley's voice reply. I'd be excited that Ashley is here if it weren't for Punk's rage coming with it. "What the fuck? Who does that shit? I'm going to fucking kill him!" Punk screams. "John's a grown man. You can't just stop him from doing what he pleases." Ashley reminds him. "Well he has the fucking _mind_ of a stupid, spoiled, suicidal teenager!" Punk spats back.

"How sweet of you." I say, rolling my eyes as I enter the bedroom area, but immediately regret not leaving back out of the suite. "What the fuck is wrong with you?" Punk asks, charging at me, wrapping a hand around my throat, and slamming me against the wall, Ashley jumping up and grabbing Punk, "Stop it!" She screams. "What is your problem?!" I ask, rubbing at my throat, surprised he's so pissed over this. "You let some strange psycho just try to kill you?!" He asks. "He didn't try to kill me. He was helping me feel good. Plus, he couldn't have killed me. There's always a Dungeon Monitor present." I explain, but that doesn't help the least bit. "Because that makes it all the more fucking better! You're not going to see him again!" Punk warns. "I am, and you're not going to stop me." I say, matter-of-factly, not caring what he thinks of this situation. He has no control over it. "When?" Punk asks. "I don't know yet. He hasn't told me." I reply. "Well when you go, I'm going with you! I'm going to give him a fucking piece of my mind!" Punk yells. "You're not going with me, Punk." I say, and Punk tries to lunge himself at me again, but Ashley grabs him yet again.

"Stop, Punk! Maybe he doesn't want you to go because you can't control your goddamn anger!" Ashley yells at him. "How am I supposed to be calm and okay with someone trying to murder him?!" Punk asks. "Punk, please don't be mad," I grab his hands, "Please. I understand that you're mad, and you have all the reason to be mad. I know it's risky. You don't know how he makes me feel though. He makes me feel good, he makes me feel happy. He hasn't done anything to me like you have, though. He hasn't hurt me as bad as you, I promise. He hasn't even ever made me bleed. He's never made me feel as good as you do." I lie and say, figuring that Punk's so mad because he thinks he's being replaced. "You're damn right he hasn't! Because I know you! I care about you! I know the things you like and what you need! _He_ doesn't!" Punk replies firmly, wrapping his arms protectively around me. "I'm just exploring, Punk. You always complain about me being boring. I'm doing something adventurous. Please don't stop me from doing it. Please support me." I beg, nuzzling my head in Punk's neck. "I worry about you, John. I don't know what I'd do if he did something to hurt you, and I mean _hurt_ you." Punk whispers, running his lips along my skin. "I'll be fine, I promise." I say, and Punk sighs defeated, "Fine. I want to meet this guy eventually, though!" Punk demands. "Sure. I'll ask him about it." I reply, though I have absolutely no plans to ever have Punk even in the same state as him. "Thank you." Punk smiles, then kisses my lips, and I return the kiss for a moment before pulling away and burying my head back in his hold. "See, Punk. If you just talk to him calmly, you can come to a middle ground." Ashley says, giggling a bit. "Shut up." Punk rolls his eyes.

"I want to lay down. Will you two lye with me?" I ask as I pull from Punk's hold and climb onto the bed. Punk quickly cuddles up next to me, pulling me into his hold, and Ashley comes and sits on my lap, laying her head where my shoulder and neck meet. "I love you guys." I mumble. "You know we love you too, John. We're just looking out for you, baby." Ashley explains, kissing at my neck. "I know. Thank you." I give a small smile. "You're welcome." Punk replies.

"Hey, where's Saraya?" I ask, it dawning on me that she's not here. "In her room, I guess. She said she didn't want to come, was tired or something." Ashley answers, and I frown a bit at that. I get that she was pissed at me this morning, for whatever reason, but you'd think after last night she'd come...but maybe it's just she's still worn out. I just give a small smile to myself and shrug it off. "Oh, alright." I say.

"So what's this guy like anyway?" Ashley asks, and I feel Punk tense up at the question, but I answer anyway; whether he wants to hear it or not. "His voice is the most amazing thing I've ever heard. It's deep and smooth. Anything he says just wraps around me and squeezes me like a _snake_. He's so gentle and caring with me too, which I didn't expect him to be. He also tells me that I'm good. He's trying to make it a point in getting me to like myself and not be so dependant on pain." I groan at the last part. "Well that's good! That's really, really good!" Ashley says excitedly, and I smile at someone finally not yelling at me or getting pissed with me when I talk about Master. "Has he fucked you?" Punk asks, and I can just feel the jealousy radiating off his skin. "No. We haven't even come close to anything like that, don't worry." I answer. Punk doesn't need to know I've been fingered twice. "Hm. Maybe the guy isn't so bad." Punk shrugs, and I sigh happily as I smile, "He's not. He's great."

* * *

**A/N:** So that chapter wasn't my best, buuuuuuuuut, I got my points across. What's Paige's deal? Punk gonna drop his crap? Yay for peace maker Ashley! And what's gonna happen when Cena and Orton meet again, eh? ;) Please leave reviews with your thoughts/guesses/etc! Hope you enjoyed! Thanks for reading :)


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